"And when are we to see you again?"
Regina shook her head.
"That is more for you to know than for me," she said. "We must leave it this way—if you can come again, you'll find some message from me, and you can leave one for me, and then I'll come."
"But listen," I said; "the other day you said you weren't sure that you could come, and to-day you didn't seem surprised that perhaps we can't come. Regina, tell me, did you know grandpapa was coming before we did? Are you a fairy?"
She shook her head, laughing, but she would say nothing, and in another moment she was gone.
We sat still, talking, for some time after she had gone—we couldn't help feeling dull and sad. We were so afraid of what grandpapa might say.
"It's a very good thing Mr. Truro's coming," said Tib. "It would have been too dreadful to have had to tell grandpapa ourselves."
"I don't see that," I said. "You speak as if we had done something very naughty, that we should be ashamed of telling. I'm not a bit afraid of telling grandpapa, in that way; I'm only afraid for fear he should forbid us ever to come to the old house again;" we had left off calling it the palace, since Regina had explained it was really a house, and the "old house" sounded nice, somehow.
"Well, yes," said Tib, "that's what I'm the most afraid of too, of course."
"And there's something we can't understand altogether," I went on. "Why did grandpapa stop us knowing anybody here? I'm sure the people at the Rectory would be kind to us, and I daresay there are other nice people. Then, who is Regina? and how does she know about us? and whose house is this? and why is it shut up? and——" I stopped, out of breath.